


How strange that we, perambulating dust, should be the vessels of / eternal fire.

by Kaesteranya



Series: Arson [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-04
Updated: 2011-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-15 09:30:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesteranya/pseuds/Kaesteranya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In their bedroom, after the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How strange that we, perambulating dust, should be the vessels of / eternal fire.

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place at the end of the first season of the anime. The details on the tattoo, however, are technically a manga-only thing.
> 
> The title is taken from the 31 Days theme for August 30, 2006.

“Are you sure this is fine?”

 

“Just because I’m going to sleep with you doesn’t mean that I will give it to you.”

 

And she’s right, of course, and always so pragmatic and perfect, right down to the touch of pink on both her cheeks and the softness in her eyes as she takes his head with both her hands to draw his face towards hers, for a light kiss just on the surface of his lips. Roy is at home with Riza Hawkeye watching him, at ease under the weight of her gaze. Women like her are hard to find, and that is ultimately what makes them so desirable, so deadly.

 

She once promised to shoot him right between the shoulder blades if he proved himself unworthy of her father’s legacy, and it is for that reason that he finds this moment – him slumped in a chair and her nestled neatly over his crotch with her legs straddling his hips – so eerily romantic.

 

For a moment he wonders if she is coming on to him because she thinks it’s the only way to bring him around, to pull him out of the place in his head that he’s holed himself up in, ever since he lost an eye and control of the military along with it.

 

When she’s riding him sometime later and he’s sheathing himself fully inside of her body, his hand slips out of the tangles of her pale hair and slide down, across her sweat-slicked skin, down the ridges of her spine, over the ink of the tattoo etched over the middle of her back. It is an old mark – the skin is no longer more sensitive than any other part of her body in that area, but she reacts to his touch nonetheless, eyes fluttering open even in the throes of her pleasure to look down at him from above and watch him. He brings her down a little harder upon his cock, and tilts his chin up in order to kiss her.

 

He stopped wanting what was branded upon her back a long time ago – his tongue tells her as much, as it slides against her own, mixing their breath, their heat, their saliva. Later, as she pulls away the eyepatch to kiss at the scars where his eye used to be, he realizes, somehow, that she already figured as much a long time ago.


End file.
